Chapter3
Gasps filled the room.
In stunned silence, everyone watched as my son’s lifeless body was wheeled out.
Jacob and George lunged toward him, collapsing in sobs.
Margaret let out a guttural cry, spewing a mouthful of blood before crumpling to the floor.
Meanwhile, I quietly pulled out my phone and dialed the police.
“Hello, I’d like to report a crime.”
“My son was murdered.”
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Before the person on the other end could respond, Jacob stormed over and smacked my phone out of my hand.
His voice shook with rage.
“Emily, you have the audacity to call the police?”
“You’re the one who killed Ethan.”
“You pushed my mother to cough up blood.”
“Are you happy now?!”
His veins bulged as he glared at me, seething with fury.
George, still holding a trembling Margaret, choked on his sobs as he spoke.
“Emily… after all these years, how could
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we have been so bliniind? How could we
have wasted our kindness on someone asas heartless as you?“?”
“We treated you as faraiyily.What did we do to deserve this?“”
“You’ve destroyed our homele!”
His words dripped with sorrow wrand regret, as if my existence was his lifeke’srereatest shame.
Seeing Jacob and George overcomene with righteous indignation, the crowd became even more frenzied.
“This bitch killed her own son and still hasas the nerve to call the cops?”
“Maybe she’s planning to turn herself inh.”
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“No way. A soulless monster like her wouldn’t have that kind of conscience!”
“She makes me sick. Why couldn’t she have died instead of Ethan?”
Furious voices filled the air.
The livestream comment section was flooded with hate–relentless, merciless.
Within hours, my photo spread across the internet, edited into black–and–white, plastered with the vilest curses.
Ethan’s death turned the entire world against
- me.
They wanted me gone.
Erased.
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But in the midst of their seething hatred, I turned to look at Jacob and my in–laws, their eyes swollen red from crying.
And I laughed.
Jacob’s brows furrowed, his anger barely restrained as he growled,
“What the hell are you laughing at?”
“You think it’s funny that your son is dead?”
Margaret, regaining some strength, glared at me weakly.
“This is a sin…”
“My Ethan… how did he end up with a mother as cold–hearted as you?”
“How did our family get cursed with a
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daughter–in–law like you?”
“Our poor, sweet boy is gone, and you’re standing there laughing?”
Margaret’s voice trembled with grief, her heart shattered.
The sheer disappointment and fury in her eyes fuelled the crowd’s rage even further.
And I…
I laughed even harder.
“Drop the act.”
Jacob’s anger surged.
“Act?!”
He pointed at Ethan’s lifeless body, his voice
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hoarse with pain.
“Our son is dead! He died saving you! And you think we’re the ones putting on an act?!”
“Emily, you’re a heartless monster.”
“You don’t deserve a son like Ethan.”
His agonized roar ignited the crowd once
more.
They weren’t silent anymore.
They screamed at me, hurled abuse, cursed my existence.
The livestream comment section boiled over with rage, each message dripping with
venom.
I looked at their faces–eyes filled with
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murderous hate.
Then, in full view of everyone, I did something no one expected.
I raised my hand-
And slapped Jacob across the face.
SMACK!
The sharp sound sliced through the chaos.
The room fell into stunned silence.
Everyone stared at me in shock.
No one had expected me, the so–called villain, the public enemy-
To strike first.
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“You have the nerve to hit me?”
Jacob stood frozen, his hand pressed against his cheek. Disbelief clouded his
eyes.
I met his gaze, my expression unwavering.
“Jacob, what right do you have to lecture me?”
The crowd was left speechless.
The livestream chat exploded:
“Holy sh*t, this woman is insane!”
“She killed her son and still dares to hit someone?”
“I swear, I’ve never been this mad at a stranger before!”
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“I hope karma hits her so hard she never recovers!”
Jacob took a moment to recover before demanding, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
I scoffed.
“What does it mean?”
I stared straight at him and said coldly,
“Jacob, do you think you and your family have treated me fairly?”
Jacob didn’t hesitate.
“What are you talking about?!”
“I’ve done everything for you. I’ve never
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raised my voice at you!”
“My parents treated you like their own daughter, always putting up with you, caring for you.”
“When you were sick, my mother cooked for you every day, tending to you with love and patience.”
“My father kept the house spotless for you, bought you flowers just to lift your mood.”
“So tell me, how have we wronged you?”
His voice was raw with emotion, his words dripping with grievance.
The crowd was moved.
And once again, the internet’s wrath turned toward me.
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But they had no idea.
None of them did.
Not yet.
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12/12
